What Everybody Needs
by Coriandergirl
Summary: How can you know what you're missing if you never even knew you'd had it in the first place? Severus and Lily's lovechild, abandoned at birth, is going to shake thing ups when her identity is finally known.
1. Prologue

Prologue:

Lily Evans sat in her bed in room 438 of Rigimsee hospital, Wolverhampton, holding her newborn baby closely in her arms. Looking down into the tiny, shriveled young face of her first child, Lily couldn't help but to feel an insurmountable pride at the life she had helped to create. At the same time, she felt an immense sorrow at the decision she was going to have to make. Lying on a table beside her was a pile of brightly colored pamphlets, the uppermost of which proclaimed: "Wolverhampton Child Welfare: Do What is Right for Your Child." Although the idea of her baby growing up in some one else's family, or even worse, some orphanage, believing that their parents did not love them enough to keep went against Lily's morals, James' reaction would be worse if were he to find out. Due to his work with the Order and the understanding help of Albus, she had been able to keep her condition from him. She had had to listen to Albus's almost weekly assurances that James would be fine in the end, but she knew her husband better than that. Oh, surely he would understand that, as they had only just officially gotten engaged, at the time of conception she did not expect their relationship to go anywhere, but only if it were someone else. No, James must never know about the baby, and certainly not of the child's parentage. He would never forgive her if he found out who the father was.

Ever since she first received the letter from Hogwarts, telling her she was a witch, Lily had been friends with the strange boy who had explained this whole new way of life to her: Severus Snape. Now, she held his daughter in her arms, deciding which adoption agency/ orphanage would be best for her. Lily would not even consider contacting Severus to inform him of the birth of his daughter, for one thing, he didn't know that their one night together had had any lasting effects on her life, and for another, she did not know where the hell he was-for all she knew, he could be a Death Eater now, and close personal friends with Lord Voldemort.

So, even though she most definitely had the means to supply for this baby girl, and would certainly love her, she knew she would not be able to keep her; James would know that the child was Severus'. She would have to subject this innocent child to a like of rejection and loneliness. However, she was determined to make sure her daughter went to a good place, where she would be adopted by someone who would treat her right, and be assured of the impossibility of attack from Death Eaters. Resigned to her task, Lily began sifting through the different pamphlets in earnest, searching for the right one.

A/N: This is my first fanfic I have ever published, so pretty please tell me what you think.


	2. 10 years later

10 years later

10 years later

Isabella had spent the last three hours sitting on a large rock, dipping her toes in the small creek that ran through the woods behind her house. Out here, with her back to the house and its inhabitants, she could imagine that she was deep in some distant, untouched forest, where the only noises were those of running water and wildlife. Laying back on the weather-smoothed rock, Isabella thought she could almost hear the sound of the trees breathing. Concentrating solely on the trees, she imagined that in a few more minutes, she would actually be able to feel the forest, breathing in and out. Just a few more seconds…

"Isabella! Come back to the house and get dressed! We're leaving in an hour, whether you are ready or not!" A woman's commanding voice rang out from the distant house, and pierced through Isabella's daydreams as effectively as if the woman had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head, rather than calling for her. Taking in a breath to answer the demand, Isabella let it out in an exasperated sigh as her adoptive mother, whom she called Anne, called out once more.

"I'm not kidding! If you are not properly cleaned and dressed by the time we need to leave, you are coming in whatever state of dress you are in at the time, even if you are only wrapped in a towel." The sound of Anne Snickley slamming the back door carried all the way down across the lawn and into the wooded glen where Isabella still sat. Groaning, Isabella stood up and stretched her stiff muscles, before heading up to the house to clean up and get ready for the house party they were attending that night.

Exactly an hour and fifteen minutes later, a clean Isabella stood by the front door in a skirt and blouse, waiting for Anne and her husband George to come down the stairs so that they could leave for Little Winging. _How typical,_ Isabella thought, _she yells at me not to make us late, and then she and George take forever making sure each and every hair is exactly in place. I'll bet she finds some way to blame our tardiness on me to her friend!_ Isabella and her adoptive parents were visiting an old school friend of Anne's. Apparently, George and the friend's husband had worked at the same firm, Grunnings, and the two women had come face to face at a recent event. When the 'best friends' had been introduced, it had taken them a full ten minutes of small talk before they finally realized their prior connection. There and then, it was decided that Anne, George, and their daughter would have to come and visit Petunia and her family at her house for dinner.

"Anne! George! We're going to be late! Can't we just _go_ already?" Possibly because of her summoning, but more likely because they had finally finished, Anne and George Snickley walked down the ornate stair-case, picked up their jackets and Anne's pocketbook, and at last were on their way to the residence of Vernon and Petunia Dursley.


	3. Of cars and conversations

On the drive to the Dursley's house, Anne broke one of her own time-honored rules: she used the time spent commuting in the car to actually talk

On the drive to the Dursley's house, Anne broke one of her own time-honored rules: she used the time spent commuting in the car to actually talk. When she first began to speak, George was so startled, he momentarily forgot to steer, making it necessary to veer sharply to avoid hitting a school bus. However, he soon relaxed slightly, when he discovered that she was not holding a real conversation, but imparting instructions.

"Now, Isabella, Mrs. Dursley is a dear friend of mine, and Mr. Dursley is an important associate of your father's. Because of this, I want you to be on your absolute best behavior, understood?" She said it so sweetly that Isabella knew without the merest shadow of a doubt that if she somehow messed this dinner up for her parents, she would live to regret it even more so the day they had taken her away from Sir Milton's Boarding School for Problem Children. Milton's Misery Emporium, as the locals had called it, was the school of choice used by the orphanage Isabella had grown up in, as it boarded the children free of charge, creating much-needed space at the orphanage. No matter how much at times Isabella might wish that the Snickleys hadn't been the ones to adopt her, she knew that even their worst was not as bad as Sir Miltons', and she had the scars to prove it.

Mentally counting to ten before answering, knowing how angry their reactions would be if she simply spoke her mind, Isabella drew in a deep breath and opened her mouth.

"I wouldn't dream of misbehaving, Anne. But will you please tell me who I am supposed to be tonight?" Depending upon who she was meeting, Anne and George would introduce Isabella as a different character in relation to their family. She had been known as anyone from daughter to their orphaned niece to their impoverished charge, to the truth.

Letting loose one of her tinkling little laughs that never managed to reach her eyes, no matter how much she practiced, Anne looked Isabella right in the face, as if to warn her.

"Dearest, but of course you are our dear, treasured daughter, and as such, I think it really would be best if you would call me 'Mom,' or 'Mother.'" Certain that she had properly informed Isabella of her role for that night, Anne turned away, looking out the window, and effectively ended all further conversation.

Glancing sharply at Isabella in the rearview mirror, George turned on the radio, to ensure that no one would speak, wincing as the singer hit an exceptionally high note. _Oh, yeah_, Isabella thought, disgusted, _you would have to be _blind_ not to see the familial love _we_ share_. Resigned in her task of pretending that which was _supposed_ to be a reality, Isabella closed her eyes and thought back on the afternoon she had spent under the trees. She carefully recalled every last detail, saving the memories for the next time she was feeling particularly upset.


End file.
